


Another Blanket Scene

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Post-Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, Potter Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 23:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11172627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: When Albus gets home at the end of fourth year, the burned remains of the blanket are still lying on his bed.





	Another Blanket Scene

**Author's Note:**

> The other night, I started wondering what would happen if Albus came home at the end of his fourth year and found the blanket still on his bed. I was going to just write out my headcanon, but it ended up becoming a fully fledged fic. 
> 
> Thanks to Abradystrix, who beta’d this one on a plane on the way back from her holiday.

When Albus gets home at the end of fourth year, the burned remains of the blanket are still lying discarded on his bed. 

He stops dead in the doorway, still holding the handle of his trunk and clutching the strap of his backpack. There's something about seeing it there. It makes him feel strange, upset and angry and oddly content all at once, a confusing knot of emotion that makes him feel all tight and tied up inside. 

For a moment he stands and stares at it, then he leaves his trunk, dumps his backpack on the floor, and walks across to it. He sits on the edge of the bed and picks it up, careful not to damage it when it's already so frayed and burned. It looks close to falling apart. 

He unfolds it carefully, and reads the words he and Scorpius had written. 

_Dad, help_

_Godric's Hollow_

_31/10/81_

He'd written it with his fingers, dipping them into the Tincture of Demiguise and then wiping the message onto the fabric. There are trails and patches of burned blanket where the liquid had dripped as he'd written. It had been difficult to see what he was writing, but looking at it he doesn't think he did a bad job. He's never seen the finished result before. 

He strokes his hands over the surface of the blanket. Soft wool, so soft and silky and warm, and burned up Love Potion, dry and brittle, flaking away into ash when he touches the edges. It's such a strange juxtaposition. And as he thinks about Lily wrapping it around Harry on that snowy day, he feels a pang of guilt for ruining something so precious. 

He hears footsteps on the stairs outside his room, but he doesn't look up. It's probably James running off to harass Lily into a game of Quidditch or something. But then there's a quiet knock on his door, a creak, and Harry's voice.

"Albus? I'm going to start dinner now. I was wondering if you wanted to- Oh."

Albus looks up at his dad and sees him staring at the blanket. Immediately he puts it down on the bed next to him and stops touching it. What right does he have when he'd so brutally rejected it just a few months ago? 

"Sorry," he says, shuffling away from the blanket. "It was on my bed, so I just-"

Harry shakes his head. "No. It's fine. I didn't realise we'd left it..." He looks between the blanket and Albus, then he takes a step into the room. "Can I come in?" 

Albus shrugs and moves further down the bed, squishing himself up on his pillows, so his dad has the most room possible to sit down. Harry hesitates for a moment, then he walks across the room. He looks down at the blanket, takes a breath, and picks it up. Then he sits down beside Albus and looks at him. 

"Albus, I-"

"I'm sorry I touched it," Albus blurts out, before Harry can get any further. "And I'm sorry I ruined it. I know it was important to you. But it was all we could think of, and-"

"Albus," Harry murmurs, but Albus plunges on regardless.

"You should take it and keep it somewhere safe. Somewhere it can't get any more damaged. Do you think there's any way to repair it? Are there any spells, or-"

" _Albus_ ," Harry says, and the tone of his voice is so authoritative that Albus immediately stops talking and stares at him. "Sorry," Harry says, in a much softer tone. “I didn’t mean to- But I want you to understand…”

He runs a hand through his hair, then turns the blanket over in his lap, touch gentle, almost reverent. "You know... this blanket used to just remind me of the past. You know, my parents, Godric's Hollow, everything that happened... But I don't think it's just that anymore." He looks at Albus, and Albus frowns at him, not quite understanding. 

Harry strokes his fingers along the silky strip round the outside edge of the blanket. "It actually makes me think of you."

Albus recoils. "Me?" That can't be anything good. 

Harry nods. "Yeah, it does." He folds the blanket up and lays it on the bed between them. "It reminds me of all the things you did. It reminds me of your courage. You saved the world, Albus."

Albus pulls a face, and Harry takes hold of his shoulders.

"Don't look like that. We've talked about this. Without you, we might never have caught Delphi. She would have got stronger and stronger, and she might have acted before we had a chance to stop her." Harry brushes a hand through Albus's hair. "But it's more than that."

Albus gives a tiny smile. "More than saving the world? I'm flattered, Dad, but really..."

Harry releases him and picks the blanket up again. "It reminds me of your Slytherin qualities. The best bits of you. I mean look at this." He spreads the blanket out across both their laps. "This is brilliant."

Albus takes hold of the corner of the blanket and pulls it towards him. "Dad, please."

Harry takes hold of the other corner and smooths it back out again. "No, it's ingenious, Albus. The thought behind it. You're brilliant. I think you get it from your mum actually. You had this idea, and then you found everything you needed to put it together."

He looks up at Albus. "I admire your ambition, too. You set out to save someone's life, to save Cedric's life. There aren't many people who'd even think to do something like that, and even less who'd actually go and do it. It's remarkable. And kind. I think that's the best thing about you." He pauses, and Albus looks at him, not really sure what to do with himself. His cheeks have gone all hot from the compliments, and he wants to grab the pillows and hide behind them. He's not used to this, having his dad talk to him this way. 

Harry looks back at Albus, and he smiles, and Albus can't help but smile too, ducking his head and staring down at his hands. 

"You can be anything you want to be," Harry says. "You can be in any house you like. But that doesn't mean you can be kind, or brave. I think there are a lot of different ways of being brave, but I think you're brave in the best way. For all the right reasons."

"I'm not that brave," Albus mutters. "I'm just reckless. Scorpius is the brave one."

Harry shakes his head. "Maybe you're a bit reckless sometimes, but you do good things. Things that are hard to do."

Albus thinks about that for a minute, trying to work out what his dad means. There's only really one thing he can think of. "I told Cedric-" He takes a breath and looks at his dad. "I told Cedric that his dad loved him. When we saw him in the maze. I just wanted him to know. And maybe I shouldn't have done it, we probably shouldn't have talked to him at all, just in case, but I think it's important. People should know that their parents love them. Because it's really hard if you don't."

Harry looks him in the eye. "I love you, Albus."

Albus looks back at him, and he nods. "I know." He looks down at the blanket draped over their laps, and he tightens his grip on it. "And I love you too, Dad."

Harry grins. "Yeah."

Albus smiles and messes with the blanket, not sure what to do next. He runs the wool through his hands, then smooths out the creases. 

"Dad?" He asks finally. 

"Yeah?" Harry says, still beaming, like he can't quite help himself.

"Do you think..." Albus swallows, hardly daring to ask. "Would you mind if I kept the blanket?" He looks up quickly. "I promise I'll look after it. I don't want anything bad to happen to it. Not anymore."

"Of course!" Harry says, smile widening. "You can have it." 

Albus gathers it into his lap and holds onto it. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Harry says, with an immense sincerity, reaching out to touch Albus’s arm. Albus looks at him, and shuffles just an inch or so closer to him.

For a moment they sit in silence beside each other, neither of them saying anything, but Albus doesn’t think there’s anything they need to say. Not right now.

After a while, Harry pats his hands on his knees. 

"Well, I probably should go and make dinner..." He sounds a bit reluctant, and he glances at Albus as he says it, and Albus wonders if he's worried he might think he doesn't want to stay any longer. 

Albus folds the blanket up and looks at him. "Can I come and help?"

A look of momentary relief flashed across Harry's face and he nods. "I'd love you to."

"Alright!" Albus gets to his feet. "Let me just..." He gestures to the blanket. "I should put this somewhere safe."

"I'll wait for you in the kitchen," Harry says, getting to his feet and adjusting the cuffs on his shirt. He walks across to the door, then pauses on the threshold. "Albus?" He says, turning back.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad to have you home for the summer."

Albus hugs the blanket to his chest and grins. "I think it's going to be a good one."

Harry beams and clasps his hands together. "Me too." 


End file.
